


Conflicting Interests

by lachatblanche



Series: Dollhouse AU [8]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Consent Issues, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 09:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles has an appointment with the doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conflicting Interests

‘Oh dear,’ Hank said, biting his lip as he took in the view in front of him. ‘That doesn’t look good. It’s not serious, is it?’

Logan opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted before he could start.

‘Not at all, dear boy,’ Charles said jovially, walking over and clapping Hank companionably on the back. ‘Nothing to worry about. It’s merely a scratch, that’s all. I’ve had far worse, never fear!’

Hank blinked.

‘… Right,’ he said, but not before casting a doubtful look at Logan, who just shrugged. 

‘Like the good Captain says,’ he drawled. ‘It’s only a scratch.’

Hank still didn’t look fully convinced.

‘Maybe so,’ he said dubiously, ‘but you should still make sure that he sees Doctor MacTaggart as soon as possible. A head wound is still a head wound, even if it is shallow.’

‘We’re seeing the Doc as soon as he’s done here,’ Logan informed him, hiding the roll of his eyes.

Hank nodded in approval before turning to Charles.

‘All right, Captain,’ he said cheerfully. ‘How about we get started on your treatment?’

Charles beamed at him.

‘Certainly, old boy,’ he said, sitting himself down in the Chair. ‘I say, do you mind if I smoke? I’m afraid that our friend Mr. Logan here forbade it whilst we were travelling.’

Hank lifted an eyebrow at that. The idea of Logan enforcing smoking regulations was more than a little odd. The man usually wasn’t to be seen without a large, odious-smelling cigar somewhere about his person and had more than once been heavily scolded by Miss Frost for ignoring smoking regulations on the House premises. The look on Hank’s face conveyed as much.

Logan scowled.

‘Yeah, well,’ he grumbled. ‘I know what I’m doing. _He_ doesn’t.’

Charles, who had been listening with polite interest, let out a chuckle at that.

‘Oh I assure you, old thing, I am perfectly aware of what I’m doing,’ he said cheerily. ‘My grandfather taught me to smoke when I was boy, you know.’

Logan sent Hank a look.

‘Was there a reason you made him talk like that?’ he demanded.

Hank shrugged, looking a bit sheepish.

‘I thought I would mix things up a bit,’ he said. ‘Make things interesting. I mean, just because he’s a bomb-disposal expert doesn’t mean that he can’t have – you know … a bit of character.’

‘He thinks he’s a goddamn RAF pilot in the fucking world war!’ Logan growled.

Hank shrugged again. By now he had all but given up trying to get Logan to stop swearing in front of his Active.

‘What can I say? That persona is very popular with some very wealthy old ladies, I’ll have you know.’

Logan rolled his eyes.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said. ‘Can we ditch him already? MacTaggart will be waiting.’

That got Hank moving and, less than two minutes later, Charles was getting up from his seat and waving goodbye to Hank as he and Logan exited the room.

Logan kept his eyes fixed on his Active as they began to descend the stairs to the in-house clinic.

‘You okay there, bub?’ he asked as they slowly made their way down, his arms poised to reach out in case Charles experienced any dizziness.

Charles paused on the step he was on and wrinkled his brow.

‘I hurt,’ he said in a mildly surprised tone.

‘Yup,’ Logan nodded, gently taking hold of Charles’s arm and guiding him down the stairs. ‘I thought you might.’

‘Why do I hurt?’ Charles wondered aloud, trying to touch curious fingers to his forehead.

‘You have an injury,’ Logan replied, patiently grasping hold of his hands before he could touch his head. ‘A bad man hurt you.’

‘Oh,’ a pucker appeared on Charles’s forehead. He appeared confused by this.

‘Nothing happened, though,’ Logan said quickly. ‘Apart from that hurt on your head there.’

Charles smiled at him then.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I know.’

Logan frowned at that.

‘You do?’ he asked, sounding doubtful.

Charles turned to look at him before smiling and taking Logan’s hand in his.

‘You take care of me,’ he said with guileless blue eyes. ‘I trust you.’

Logan’s throat seemed to stick for a moment. He stared at Charles, before nodding.

‘Yeah,’ he said gruffly, squeezing Charles’s hand. ‘I take care of you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. You should know that.’

Charles smiled at him.

‘I know it,’ he said, and then they were both standing outside the door to the clinic.

‘Time to see the Doc now, Charles,’ Logan said softly before knocking once on the door and then pushing it open. 

‘Ah, Logan,’ a capable-looking woman with auburn hair glanced up from the file that she had been consulting and nodded at him. ‘It’s good to see you. And hello, Charlie,’ the woman’s smile became softer, more genuine. ‘It’s a pleasure to see you as well.’

‘He’s Charles, now,’ Logan said quickly, spotting the slight wrinkle on Charles’s face. ‘He doesn’t like to be called Charlie anymore.’

‘Oh yes,’ Dr. MacTaggart nodded and turned a speculative look towards Charles. ‘It’d slipped my mind. Of course. Welcome, Charles. What can I do for you today?’

‘I hurt,’ Charles said, looking at the Doctor with wide, earnest eyes. ‘I am not at my best. You can help me be my best.’

‘Hmm,’ MacTaggart took a quick look at him, her eyes zeroing in on the head wound. ‘I see.’ She sighed, ushering Charles over to a seat as she moved over to the instruments on her table. ‘What did they have you do this time? Take down a terrorist cell single-handedly?’

Logan snorted.

‘You’re not far wrong,’ he said dryly. ‘He was a bomb-disposal expert with a few other things thrown in besides. Managed to defuse a bomb _and_ take out the bad guys. And all while speaking the goddamn King’s English and being all how-do-you-fucking-do about it, too.’

MacTaggart sighed as she gently dabbed Charles’s wound with an antiseptic.

‘Those are the worst,’ she said quietly as she attended to him. ‘The dangerous jobs. The Actives shouldn’t be made to risk their lives like that – it’s not right. I keep wondering whether the next one will actually come back in one piece.’ Her nostrils flared. ‘Not that _Miss Frost_ would care. She would just end the contract, sign a generous compensation package and send the poor thing home with one less limb to worry about.’

‘That sounds like her, alright,’ Logan said, dropping down into a chair. He reached up and scratched his chin thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know if I’d call those the _worst_ jobs, though.’

The doctor glanced up sharply at that.

‘Oh?’ she asked.

‘Yeah,’ Logan smiled grimly, his eyes cold. ‘Personally I would much rather face down a bunch of lunatics with guns than be stuck in a bed with some sick fuck and programmed to fulfil every single one of his fucked-up fantasies.’ He shrugged. ‘But maybe that’s just me.’

MacTaggart’s grimaced.

‘I see what you mean,’ she said, her head dipping. She sighed and brushed her hair off her forehead. ‘It’s hard, sometimes, to think about what it is that we do here. What we make _other people_ do.’ She turned to look at Charles then, and there was a sad, almost despairing look on her face. ‘It’s not right,’ she whispered, the tip of her finger brushing against Charles’s cheek.

Logan coughed and she immediately withdrew her hand. He watched her for a while as she bustled around, tending to Charles and making notes in a little notebook.

‘Can I ask you something, Doc?’ he asked after a few minutes.

The doctor glanced up from her book.

‘All right,’ she said cautiously. ‘I can’t promise I’ll answer it, though.’

‘Fair enough,’ Logan shrugged. ‘I was just thinking – you really don’t seem to like what the Dollhouse does – what _we_ do.’

MacTaggart barked out a laugh. 

‘You’re damn right I don’t,’ she said grimly. ‘And if anyone else here was anything but a cold-hearted bastard then they’d hate it too!’

‘Hmm,’ Logan made a non-committal noise. ‘Well, I was wondering – if you hate it so much then-’

‘Why do I work here?’ she finished for him. Logan nodded. ‘I don’t know. Why do any of us work here?’ She frowned then. ‘I guess I just feel this sense of obligation – like it’s my _duty_ to look after the Actives, you know? To make sure that they’re okay, that I am doing everything in my power to make sure that they get out of this alive and healthy and well.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. It’s like – what do you feel when you look after Charles?’

Logan blinked at that.

‘Oh – what you said,’ he muttered, looking down at the floor. ‘Duty and responsibility and all that stuff.’

‘And affection,’ MacTaggart said quietly, and when Logan’s head jerked up he saw that she was wearing a knowing expression that quickly faded into weariness. ‘It’s okay – it happens, however much Miss Frost would like to put an end to it. It helps, in the end. To care for the one you are looking after. It makes you better at what you do. It’s actually harder to _not_ get attached.’ She turned to look at Charles again, her expression slightly wistful. ‘How can you not?’ she said softly. ‘When someone trusts you and needs you and relies on you as much as they do? It changes you. It creates a – a bond.’

Logan watched as she once again reached out to brush her fingers against Charles’s face. His eyes narrowed. He was missing something here. 

‘You and Charlie,’ he said slowly. ‘Do you-’

‘Oh,’ MacTaggart flushed a bright red, her hands immediately going back to her sides, where she clenched them. ‘I know this must seem very … But the thing is – You see, Charlie and I have something of a history.’ She looked up at Logan then, and there was an almost fierce look in her eye. ‘I don’t know if you know this, but before I was a full-time doctor here, I used to be a Handler.’ She paused and Logan knew what was coming. ‘More specifically, I used to be _Charlie’s_ Handler.’

Logan had to fight down the irrational sense of jealousy that overtook him in that moment and he grit his teeth in an effort to subdue it. The doctor watched him with a horribly sympathetic expression on her face.

‘I know,’ she said gently. ‘That’s exactly how I felt about _you_ when you first came here.’

Logan scowled at her but he couldn’t help but be curious.

‘So what happened?’ he demanded. ‘Why did you stop being his Handler?’

MacTaggart looked away at that.

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ she asked at last, sounding tired.

Logan was silent for a moment before he spoke.

‘You fell in love with him.’

MacTaggart shut her eyes.

‘Do you blame me?’ she asked in a small voice, still not looking up.

Logan’s eyes flickered over to where Charles was politely sitting and waiting to be addressed. He sighed.

‘Damn it, Doc,’ he said in a low growl. ‘What did you do?’

MacTaggart’s head jerked up at that.

‘Do?’ she repeated incredulously. ‘I didn’t do anything!’

‘Nothing?’ Logan repeated flatly. He jerked an arm out towards Charles. ‘You telling me that you’re head-over-heels for our boy there but you didn’t so much as steal a kiss from him?’

MacTaggart's face was beginning to turn red, and her eyes flashed angrily.

‘Would you?’ she hissed, and that shut Logan up. She tossed her head and took a deep, calming breath. ‘I did _nothing_ , Logan. I – I loved him. God knows I know it’s crazy, but I did. I loved him enough to do _nothing_.’ Her eyes lifted to meet his. ‘I’m sure you understand.’

Logan growled but said nothing.

‘So what happened?’ he asked after a moment. ‘How come you got stuck with the doctor gig?’

MacTaggart sighed and went back to attending to Charles.

‘I confessed,’ she said simply. ‘I went to Frost and I told her everything. Well – what little there was to tell.’ She stopped and let out a bleak little laugh. ‘Turns out, she already knew.’ She glanced over at Logan with a wry smile. ‘Never try to keep anything from that woman. She _knows_ things. Anyway,’ she continued, ‘she’d been keeping track of me and had been monitoring my behaviour so she knew that I was telling the truth. I offered to resign, and she accepted.’ She paused, reflective. ‘And then she went and offered me a job as the in-house Doctor. I can tell you, that _wasn’t_ what I was expecting.’

‘What were you expecting?’ Logan asked.

MacTaggart shrugged.

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘To be sent home? To have my memory wiped? To be sent to the Attic … All those things, I guess. Does it matter? Anyway, she said that she knew that I had been a medical officer during my time in the army and that my skills would be particularly valued here and … well, the rest is history.’

‘And I came after that?’

The doctor shook her head.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Charlie – _Charles_ had another Handler before you but he was only temporary. Jason wasn’t a good fit for Charles – not the way you and I are.’

Logan didn’t care much for the ‘you and I’ part of the sentence but he grudgingly let it go.

‘So there’s a lot of thought that goes into it?’ he asked instead. ‘The … pairings for Actives and Handlers.’

MacTaggart nodded. 

‘Very much so,’ she said. ‘Miss Frost is wonderfully astute when it comes to such things.’ She flicked a glance over at Logan. ‘I must say, I wasn’t at all sure that it would work out between the two of you when you first started but now … Now I think I can see what it is that made her choose you.’

Logan grunted.

‘If you say so,’ he said blandly.

MacTaggart’s lips quirked upwards at that. She turned back to Charles, pulling off her rubber gloves with a loud _snap_.

‘All right then,’ she said cheerfully. ‘We’re all done here.’

Charles smiled back at her and then turned to look expectantly at Logan, who had got up from his seat and placed himself securely by Charles’s side.

‘Say thank you to the Doc, Charles,’ Logan nudged him.

Charles obediently turned back to face Dr. MacTaggart.

‘Thank you, Moira,’ he said, smiling at her.

MacTaggart started, her expression flickering at the sound of the name, and for a moment she seemed lost and unhappy.

Logan watched them, his eyes narrowed.

‘Moira?’ he asked, when the doctor didn’t move.

The doctor shook herself at that, and turned to look at Logan.

‘It’s my name,’ she said quietly. She glanced back at Charles. ‘Charlie was the only one to ever call me by my proper name.’

‘Charles,’ Charles said gently. ‘My name is Charles.’

Moira bit back an unhappy laugh.

‘Yes,’ she said, nodding, not meeting anyone’s eyes. ‘Charles. Of course.’

Logan watched her for a moment before turning to his Active.

‘Come on, Chuck,’ he said quietly. ‘I think we’d better split.’

Charles gave him a bright smile and slipped off his seat.

‘Goodbye, Moira,’ he said happily, waving at her as Logan escorted him out of the room. 

The doctor didn’t look up from the floor even as the door shut behind them.


End file.
